A Master and a Padawan
by Padawan Bant
Summary: A rather random monologue by Obi-Wan, courtesy of watching The Phantom Menace late at night. No Jar Jar included.


This has probably been done before. Heck, it could have been done in the _Phantom Menace_ novelization. I have no idea; I haven't read the novelization yet. And I felt like doing an Obi-Wan monologue. So there you have it. If you're so inclined, though, proceed to read this.

A Master and a Padawan

I called the Force and vaulted back onto the walkway, looking around swiftly. Qui-Gon and the Sith lord were much farther down, and at the back of my mind I cursed my slowness, but even as I felt that fleeting regret I took off at a dead run towards them.

There, almost there – and I slid to a stop. A faintly humming red shield shot up, layered, half-obscuring my view of my master and our adversary. I saw the Sith mockingly hit the shield with his lightsaber, proof that no fighting could be done within it. Qui-Gon sank thankfully to his knees, and I could tell he was calling the Force and willing the layered shield to disappear. Again I cursed silently, adding a blessing to it, at this moment in which to catch our breath. But oh, how I wished I could be there, knowing I could help my master.

The shield slid away, and Qui-Gon was up in a flash, striking at the Sith almost too quickly to follow. I smiled slightly even as I raced towards them again, watching my master, willing my feet to move faster.

And again, that cursed shield was up, this time around me.

For a moment, I placed my full attention on finding inner calm, and the assurance, part of my very makeup by now, that Qui-Gon could function without his oft-erring Padawan. Finding that calm, I began to do as my master had, gathering concentration and the Force around me, willing the shields back, and as I did so, I focused the rest of myself on the fight only feet away from me.

The Sith still had both blades of his lightsaber, but Qui-Gon was holding his own with only one. As always, he was anticipating moves before they came, striking on offensive and defensive at once. Turning with the momentum of the deflect, he raised his lightsaber level with his head.

_"It's an err in your defense, Obi-Wan," _my master's voice rang in my ears. "_Never raise your lightsaber so high that your torso is unprotected. Someday it may prove your undoing."_

But it was his own undoing instead.

One of the Sith's blades slid smoothly through Qui-Gon and out again, leaving him with a look that was not quite surprise and not quite pain.

"NOOOOOOOO!" someone shouted, ringing in my ears, reverberating around me, echoed in my own mind, where I silently cried my master's name a thousand times, and dimly I realized that my throat was raw with the yell, for it must have been me who had shouted.

I have felt the Force for almost as long as I can remember, a sort of singing reminder that all of life is precious. I have also felt my share of anger, at other apprentices in the Jedi Temple, at Qui-Gon in those times I wished he would trust me with more, whenever I saw injustice in the galaxy. But that Force I have always felt had never disappeared entirely or become my entire being, and my anger had always been annoyance or righteous indignation, not hate.

So it was that I was totally unprepared. I'd known that I'd be leaving Qui-Gon, and become a Knight, but I'd always thought I'd be able to see him, if our fates ever connected once more. Now I was faced with the terrible reality of life without Qui-Gon, who had become more than master, but also true friend. A void opened within me, and for a horrible moment every bit of the living Force fell into that void, and there was only nothingness. Through it I suddenly saw the Sith's face, still mocking, not caring, and the void was filled with white-hot hatred. He had killed Qui-Gon.

It is drilled into all Padawan, before they even leave the Temple, that anger is hate, and hate is the path of destruction. I do not understand how, but the hate that filled me brought the Force back with it, not the Dark Side of the Force, but the living Force I had always known, doubled and tripled hundreds of times so that all I could feel was the Force, searing away in a second the hatred and replacing it with one truth – the Sith must not win.

The red shield around me shot away, and my lightsaber was flying, giving no room for thought, only the Force that still pulsed within me. I knew that a lightsaber was an extension of the Jedi who wielded it, but only now, as I truly saw the Force, I felt my lightsaber a part of myself, and used it with furious resolve.

Then, as he had before so as to separate me from Qui-Gon, the Sith kicked me. I fell backwards and off the ledge, dropping my lightsaber and only managing to hold on to a protruding button in the shaft. 

The Sith appeared above me, still wearing that mocking look, and nudged my lightsaber over the edge. I watched it with a sinking despair as it clattered down and out of my reach forever. Sparks suddenly rained down on me. Looking up, I saw the Sith sweeping his lightsaber across the edge of the shaft, igniting bits of metal to shower upon me, to distract me.

Distract me.

I couldn't smile, but a small spark of confidence flared up within me. The Sith, meaning to disarm me further, had reminded me of what I had to do. I could see in my mind's eye, next to the fallen Qui-Gon, his deactivated lightsaber. Summoning ready waves of the Force, I shot upwards, grabbed my master's lightsaber, activated it, and before the Sith had even registered what I had done, I sliced him neatly in two.

He stared at me for a second in annoyance, and fell down the shaft into oblivion. I stared after him, and realized what a waste it was. He hadn't been regretful, or even in pain. He had certainly been surprised, but he'd hardly let it show. He'd been _annoyed_.

Qui-Gon was better than that.

Qui-Gon, I realized with a jolt, and jumped away from the shaft, mechanically deactivating my master's lightsaber. I ran to Qui-Gon and laid it almost reverently on the floor next to him, slipping my hands under his head and cradling it in my lap.

He looked up at me, and smiled slightly, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. Taking a shuddering breath, he said quietly, "It – it's too late …"

"No," I said hopelessly, my voice cracking with tears, knowing it to be true.

"Obi-Wan," my master murmured, "promise … promise me you will train the boy."

"Yes, master," I heard myself say, and wished to swallow the words back. This promise was a total lie. The hurt of injustice my twelve-year-old self had oft felt from Qui-Gon came to life within me. My master was dying, and all he could say to his own Padawan was to take care of an admittedly dangerous boy.

"He … is the Chosen One," Qui-Gon told me, the same shining conviction in his eyes as when he had told the Jedi Council of his idea for Anakin Skywalker. He reached up with a shaking hand to touch my face, as though he couldn't quite believe I was still there. "He …will bring balance …"

I stared. No, Qui-Gon was not forgetting me, dwelling on someone else. He had always wanted order, peace in the galaxy, and though he liked Anakin for the boy himself, he wanted Anakin to have a future because he was the Chosen One. Because my master wanted me to have a good life, and trusted me, finally and completely, to be able to train that boy.

"Train him …" he whispered.

Tears were stinging my eyes once more, but I knew Qui-Gon would not want me to cry. I nodded mutely, stroking his hair, trying to take in everything that was my master. He was not smiling now, but I kept on nodding, almost automatically, frantic to assure him, and his eyes smiled for him, knowing I understood, and then they closed forever.

There had never been peace on Qui-Gon's face, and even in death he did not relax, but retained that same look of purpose. I choked on another sob and leant forward. Perhaps I should have kissed his forehead, a sign of respect, acknowledgement of my master, but we were master and apprentice no more. In that last moment, after all the years I had strived to learn what Qui-Gon was, we had finally understood each other perfectly and completely.

I simply pressed my forehead to his, still holding him close, as though I could catch his soul as it went to rejoin the Force, and somehow bring it into me instead, so I could be with Qui-Gon forever.

"How feel you?"

Surprised, I looked up. I'd been waiting for Yoda in the makeshift Jedi Temple Queen Amidala had generously offered of her palace, but I had not heard the Jedi Master approach. I quickly knelt down on the circular design in the floor, a mark of respect for Yoda, and repeated his question to myself in my mind, then answered as truthfully as I could, "I don't know. I'm not sure I feel anything."

Yoda's face wrinkled further with disapproval. "Know, you do. Feel, you must. Tell me, you can."

I nodded, trying to collect my thoughts. "I … miss him."

"Have you anger for the Sith?" Yoda asked shrewdly, and sat back, watching me.

Grateful he was giving me a moment to think, I stared past him as the sun set on Naboo. My thoughts drifted to another sunset, only a few days previous, on Coruscant. Qui-Gon had been standing next to me then, and I'd been trying to convince him the Council was right, Anakin was dangerous. I had protested Qui-Gon's motives, wanted to know why he felt so compelled to disobey the Jedi Code. He had looked me, half-amused, resigned to my questions, and said, _"You still have much to learn, my young apprentice."_ He had put a hand on my shoulder, as he had oft of late, to soften his words and show me he believed in me.

As he had, only yesterday, assured me. We had been waiting for that silly Jar-Jar to get back from the Gungan city, and again I'd been trying to discuss Anakin with Qui-Gon, though I tried not to question him. _"I'm sorry about my behavior, Master," _I had said. _"It's not my place to disagree with you about the boy."_ I'd felt this was inadequate, and had added, _"And I am grateful you think I am ready to take the trials."_

_"You've been a good apprentice, Obi-Wan," _Qui-Gon had replied, and he had given me a smile that had truly been proud. _"You're a much wiser man than I am. I foresee you will become a great Jedi Knight."_

I shook my head, coming back to the present and Yoda still standing in front of me, watching me in a way that gave me the idea he had heard everything running through my mind. I smiled faintly. "I did have anger for the Sith," I told him, "but it was because Qui-Gon and I were only beginning to really understand each other, and he took away the time we could have been, Jedi Knights together." I swallowed.

"Matter in the end, did it?" Yoda asked.

"No." I felt very grateful to Yoda. He was letting me say everything that needed be said, and I could find what I really thought. "In the end …I was no longer his apprentice, Master Yoda."

A faint smile crossed Yoda's face. "Then lucky, both of you were."

"Master Yoda …" I hesitated for a moment. "About Anakin … Qui-Gon asked me to train him."

Yoda looked at me sharply, then began pacing the floor. "Saying what you have said, ready you are. Bestow on you the level of Jedi Knight, the Council does." He stopped, his cane rapping the floor for effect. "But agree with your taking this boy as your Padawan learner, I do not."

Pride flared within me as I realized that I had passed my Padawan trails without needless worry for them. I was a Knight. A Knight.

My elation dissolved in an instant as I remembered Yoda's last words, and I frowned. "Qui-Gon believed in him."

Looking at me again as though he could see right to the center of my mind, Yoda sighed. "The Chosen One, the boy may be. Nevertheless, grave danger I fear in his training."

Hearing my own words to Qui-Gon echoed in Yoda unnerved me. I frowned. "Master Yoda, I gave Qui-Gon my word. I will train Anakin." I paused, remembering again that evening on Coruscant, Qui-Gon's conviction in Anakin, no matter what the Council said. "Without the approval of the Council, if I must," I added.

"Qui-Gon's defiance, I sense in you," Yoda said softly, and I felt a glow of satisfaction. Yoda may have meant it as a reprimand, but I took it as a credit to my master. Yoda looked at me sharply, and went on, "Need that, you do not." He paused, and I sighed inwardly, but held on to the pride I had taken from his words. "Agree with you, the Council does," Yoda said reluctantly. "Your apprentice, Skywalker will be."

Not many people could win a match of wills with Yoda. Another credit to Qui-Gon, I thought, and bowed in acknowledgment.

Flames. Thousands of flames, in a quiet roar, shimmering in my eyes, devouring all else I might look at. Though them, as through that humming red shield, I could see Qui-Gon, his face still set in the same determined look as when I had cradled him on that high platform, with a lingering smile around his mouth for the boy that was no longer his apprentice. I didn't cry, looking at his face writhed in flames, and found I had no need to.

Looking away, I was met with the freckled face of Anakin Skywalker, looking even younger than usual, his features slightly pinched with held-back tears. He blinked at me, then asked softly, "What will happen to me now?"

I gave him what was as close to a reassuring smile as I could coax into my face. "The Council has granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi." 

Anakin's face didn't change, but he nodded, and I was reminded of the way I had nodded in promise to Qui-Gon. It was as though this little boy was the one comforting me, and for the first time I felt no qualms about teaching him. 

"I promise," I added. 

The boy nodded again and turned back to the funeral pyre, blinking rapidly. He had loved Qui-Gon almost as much as I, I realized. We had Qui-Gon in common. 

I turned back to the pyre, and unconsciously reached for the Force, sending it out to the flames. _I promise,_ I repeated, though whether aloud or silently I didn't know.

_Obi-Wan, _something whispered back. _My Padawan, Jedi Knight._

A single tear made its way down my face, and I remembered my longing to catch Qui-Gon's soul. A hand rested itself lightly in its familiar place on my shoulder, and I turned away from the pyre in surprise, not sure what I would find. I was met again by Anakin's gaze, and he nodded once more, assurance.

"Thank you," I whispered, and finally truly smiled.

::sheepish grin:: So, how bad was it? Do tell me. ^_^


End file.
